Santa Claws is coming to town and checking his list for a murderer—as the New York Times bestselling Paws & Claws Mysteries continue… Inn owner Holly Miller finds it ruff staying cheerful over the holidays when the dead body of a beloved businessman turns up in the pet-friendly town of Wagtail, Virginia.   Inspired by her German heritage, Holly’s grandmother has arranged for Wagtail to have a Christkindl Market packed with goodies and decorations for the howliday tourists. But Holly’s mood takes an unseasonable turn when she learns that her old flame and childhood friend Holmes Richardson has brought his fiancée home—and she’ll be staying at the Sugar Maple Inn…   A love triangle becomes the last thing on Holly’s mind when her Jack Russell Trixie’s nose for trouble leads her to the corpse of a pet clothing tycoon. Now Holly and her dedicated detectives—Trixie and Twinkletoes the cat—must sniff out the killer to keep Christmas from going to the dogs… Delicious recipes for owners and pets included! Praise for the New York Times Bestselling Paws & Claws Mysteries   “Wagtail Mountain will appeal to animal lovers and mystery lovers, alike.”—Kate Carlisle, New York Times bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries   “Davis has created another charming series.”—Sofie Kelly, New York Times bestselling author of the Magical Cats Mysteries   “Davis has created a town that any pet would love—as much as their owners do. And they won’t let a little thing like murder spoil their enjoyment.”—Sheila Connolly, New York Times bestselling author of the County Cork, Museum, and Orchard Mysteries   “Murder, mystery, a bit of romance and seriously PETS!! Who could ask for anything more?”—Open Book Society   “Touches all the bases of the cozy mystery—including a bit of romance—and does so with style.”— Richmond Times-Dispatch KRISTA DAVIS is the New York Times bestselling author of the Paws & Claws Mysteries, including Mission Impawsible, Murder Most Howl , The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer , and Murder, She Barked , as well as the Domestic Diva Mysteries, including The Diva Serves High Tea , The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss , and The Diva Wraps It Up . She lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia with a brood of cats and dogs, including a snoopy Jack Russell terrier and a nosy calico cat. Her friends and family complain about being guinea pigs for her recipes, but she notices that they keep coming back for more. One "Ouch, ouch, ouch!" Zelda whispered. "I told you to wear gloves," muttered Shelley. I could barely make them out on the dark porch. It was one in the morning, and Wagtail was slumbering. If it hadn't been for the moon, I wouldn't have been able to see them at all. "Gloves are too cumbersome," Zelda groused. "I don't know how you can place the lights precisely with woolly fabric on your fingers." I shivered as a cold wind swept through. My elf tights with one red leg and one green leg weren't thick enough to keep out the chill. We stood on Marie Carr's front porch, hastily wrapping colorful lights on the Christmas tree we were delivering. Shelley passed me the cord of lights. I wrapped them around my section of the tree and handed them to Zelda. "Hush, you guys," I hissed. "Two kids live here. You'll wake them!" Wagtail, a small town in the mountains of Virginia, had experienced a boom year by catering to visitors who brought their dogs and cats for a vacation where they could be part of the fun. This year, instead of exchanging gifts with our neighbors or having secret Santas, the town had decided to make the holidays merry for our less-fortunate residents. My grandmother, whom I called Oma, German for grandma, had installed a suggestion box in the lobby of the Sugar Maple Inn, which we ran together. Anyone could stop by and drop off a suggestion for a deserving neighbor or a resident in need. And then the semisecret Elf Squad was dispatched. An observant person might have noticed that Shelley Dixon, a waitress at the inn, and Zelda York, who worked at the registration desk, had altered their schedules and could have suspected them of being elves. But we were also taking turns at the Sugar Maple Inn booth at the Christkindl Market, so our schedules were all twisted around. As far as I could tell, no one had identified us yet. We weren't worried about the adults but were trying to keep a low profile so we wouldn't spoil Christmas magic for the children of Wagtail. Shadow Hobbs, the Sugar Maple Inn handyman, had cut the perfectly shaped balsam fir earlier in the day, and we elves had transported it to the Carr house on a golf cart that we had decorated as Santa's sleigh. Our previous forays had caused rumors that Santa's elves had been spotted in Wagtail to spread through the elementary school like wildfire. We had been careful to dress in cute elf attire in case we were seen. Even Trixie, my Jack Russell terrier, wore a red and green dog dress with a hat that